


don't be a bitch; it's christmas

by congratsyouvegrownasoul



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Christmas Party, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, Someone save Kendall, Toddlers, also featuring Ronald Reagan I GUESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 02:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21206072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congratsyouvegrownasoul/pseuds/congratsyouvegrownasoul
Summary: Christmas, 1981.Logan, Caroline, and little Kendall take on the Reagan White House.





	don't be a bitch; it's christmas

It takes nearly half an hour for Logan and Caroline to make their way painstakingly through the crowded Blue Room, inching ever closer towards the gigantic fir tree and, more importantly, Ronald Reagan himself. There’s something bizarre about the atmosphere--the new president’s first Christmas in office, holding court at the White House for upwards of a hundred of the most powerful men in America, plus their wives, children, and sometimes grandchildren. Bringing children was especially encouraged, their invitations had announced. Their presence is meant, Caroline assumes, to give the illusion of comfort and warmth, a pretense of hominess rather than a naked display of power. In practice, the children running around underfoot overcrowd the room and makes everything painfully slow. Kendall squirms around, balanced on her hip, his compact toddler body surprisingly heavy. She can’t remember the last time she held him for this long.

By the time they’ve almost reached the center of the room, Caroline’s beginning to wish they’d dragged Connor along after all. As insufferable as she finds her stepson, he could at least take Kendall for a while and give her arms a rest. Connor’s supposed to be at his mother’s house for his first Christmas home from Princeton, though, and Logan didn’t like the idea of bringing him to the White House. Shouldn’t mess with Patricia’s plans, he’d scoffed, or she’d have to be hospitalized again or try and sue him for even more alimony. Besides, if familial coziness is what the children are intended for, cute little Kendall is a lot more appealing than a gangly, spotty teenager. 

She’s not the only one who’s sick of waiting--she can see an aggravated muscle twitching in Logan’s neck. He isn’t used to waiting for attention, even from presidents. Especially not presidents who his papers helped get elected, as he’s told her many times, including in the car on the way over from the hotel. When their turn is up, though, he puts on his most charming smile and strides forward to give Ronald Reagan a hearty handshake. Her husband, Caroline thinks with a perverse kind of pride, might just be the better actor of the two. 

The president’s greeting is effusive, though, easily meeting her husband’s energy. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Roy. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mr. President.”

“I don’t believe I’ve met your lovely wife, though.”

Caroline puts out her free hand for a shake and an introduction at the same time as Logan attempts to introduce her himself.

“Caroline Collingw--”

“Yes, this is Caroline--”

They both come to a halt, interrupting each other. The president smiles, a little awkwardly. 

“Mr. President, this is my wife, Lady Caroline Collingwood,” Logan begins again. “Carrie, the president.”

She gets her handshake now, but can’t stop herself from wincing slightly. Logan is a chronic nicknamer, which she supposes is sweet enough in theory, but she finds his pet names for her a little grating. 

“Pleased to meet you. And of course my wife, Nancy--” 

Mrs. Reagan, who’s been standing at quietly smiling attention next to her husband, immediately steps forward to shake Caroline and Logan’s hands as well. 

“And who’s this little guy?”

Kendall turns away as she bends down to get on his level, burying his face shyly in the bodice of Caroline’s green satin dress.

“Our son, Kendall,” Logan announces proudly, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. He looks up again and stares around at everyone, big brown eyes even wider than usual. 

“Oh, you’re just adorable, aren’t you? Merry Christmas, Kendall!”

“May Kissmas,” Kendall mumbles. 

“They’re so sweet at this age,” Mrs. Reagan tells Caroline, her tone almost conspiratorial. “Enjoy it!”

Personally, Caroline can’t wait until Kendall is able to speak in complete, coherent sentences; when she’s with him, she always feels like she’s conversing with some confused foreign tourist. She doesn’t know how Kendall’s nannies manage to interpret what he wants, always ready with his favorite stuffed kitten or a cup of juice. That’s what Logan pays them for, she supposes. 

They can’t stay to talk to the Reagans for too long. Some senator or another is waiting impatiently, so they all smile dutifully for the camera--a picture of all five of them, and then the others step aside so the men can shake hands again, this time on display. 

“I hate these things,” Caroline hisses in Logan’s ear after they walk away. “These parties.”

“Well, you’re doing a decent job pretending to be nice so far.” The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up as he scans the room.

“Not so good as you.”

“Practice makes perfect.” 

He starts suddenly, puts his arm around her and steers her sharply to the right.

“Fuck, let’s move.”

Caroline cranes her neck. 

“What is it?”

“Art Pierce, over there, heading towards us. I just met the president, Carrie, I can’t deal with that pompous old fuck right now.”

He glances back over his shoulder. 

“Look at him strolling around with his cute little trophy wife. Smug motherfucker.” 

Arthur Pierce’s wife isn’t any younger or prettier than Caroline, she notes, but he’s got a good fifteen years on Logan, so the contrast is stronger. She’s toting along her own baby, much smaller and younger than Kendall. Not as heavy, Caroline thinks with a flash of jealousy, shifting Kendall on her hip. The little Pierce girl can’t be more than a few months old; her mother still needs to hold her tiny blonde head up. 

“She’s certainly very pretty, but that gold dress is awfully loud, don’t you think, darling?”

Memories are floating up in her mind, sudden and not entirely welcome, of the RECNY ball four years ago. Patricia gazing up at the stage, face rapt, a thousand miles away; Logan on his third whiskey, laughing too loud whenever Caroline said something witty, his hand slipping up her thigh under the table. Despite appearances, Logan doesn’t care for parties either; he’ll perform when he has to, but then he’ll look for a distraction. She doesn’t want him distracted tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about women’s clothing, you know me.”

“Well, I don’t care for it.”

Logan pats her arm indulgently, leading the way out of the room. 

“You look good tonight. Very dignified. Try not to upstage me, huh?”

His tone is flippant, but she remembers the flash of irritation that had swept across his face when she’d spoken over him in front of the president.

She makes herself laugh.

“Don’t worry. I’d never think of it.”

They’re heading into the dining room now, where it’s quite a bit less crowded. Logan squeezes her arm and then heads off to network, his voice booming out over the quiet murmur of conversation. 

“Senator Thurmond! When are you going to do an interview with us?”

Caroline’s left standing in the center of the room, feeling a bit of a wallflower. She finds her way over to an empty chair and sits, plopping Kendall down on the floor next to her. 

“Stay right here and don’t run off; you’re a big boy and Mummy can’t carry you anymore.”

Kendall grabs hold of her long skirt, crushing the fabric in his little fist. She winces. 

“Let’s just sit down and be quiet for a minute.”

Kendall says something completely unintelligible, then flops over and rolls onto his back, staring up at her. 

“What do you mean, Kendall?” 

She desperately hopes he doesn’t need his diaper changed. Anything but that.

“Pay with?”

“You want to play with me?”

He blinks, then shakes his head.

“Oh, you want to play with a toy?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I haven’t got any toys, Kendall.”

He pouts, makes a little whimpering noise, and kicks his foot around. 

“You don’t need to throw a fit about it. Come on, up you get.”

She scoops him up again, glancing around the room looking for some way to keep him occupied. She’s about ready to head back into the Blue Room and let Nancy Reagan hold Kendall, if she thinks he’s so cute. 

“Oh, look, Kendall, they’ve got a big beautiful gingerbread house. Let’s go look at that, shall we?”

The decorative display isn’t for eating, obviously, but there’s a whole table laid with platters of different Christmas cookies as well. Logan’s apparently taking a break from networking, because he’s over there piling up a plate with shortbread whorls and jam-filled linzers. 

Caroline rolls her eyes and then slips up beside him, putting her free hand on his shoulder.

“Do you really need to eat all that, darling?”

“Don’t be a bitch, Caroline, it’s Christmas. I’ll eat what I want.” 

As if to prove his point, he sticks a cookie in his mouth defiantly. 

Caroline sniffs. 

“If you must.”

Lately, he’s been putting on weight, the sturdy masculine build she’d found so appealing softening. He still looks handsome tonight, in a new Brioni suit and bright-polished shoes, but expensive tailoring can’t hide the way his stomach swells over the edge of his belt. 

“Cookie?” Kendall asks excitedly, waving his arms around to get her attention and getting perilously close to smacking her in the face. 

“Not for you,” Caroline admonishes. 

The nanny they’d brought down from New York had fixed him a perfectly nice dinner in their hotel suite before he’d been dressed to leave. He can’t possibly be hungry, he just wants what Logan’s eating. 

She pulls him away from the table before he has time to get upset. Logan raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. 

Caroline’s glad she didn’t let him have any sugar ten minutes later when he starts yawning and rubbing his head against her shoulder. They end up in a small library off the main party, where she deposits Kendall on a chaise longue. He snuggles up against the velvet pillows and sticks his thumb in his mouth, eyes closing. 

Checking her watch, Caroline realizes it’s nearly ten o’clock, way past his bedtime. She’ll let Logan shake hands, stroke egos, and stuff himself with cookies for a while longer. She’ll go collect him in a little while once the party winds down and it’s time to head out. For now, she’s grateful for the peace and quiet. She kicks off her heels and stretches her feet, sighing, and scans the shelves for a book that’s hopefully not too dull. 

Kendall’s still fast asleep by the time they leave, a docile little ragdoll that Logan scoops up easily from the chaise longue. Outside in the frosty air, he holds Kendall tucked under his jacket, tight against his chest, while they wait for their car and driver. The wind goes straight through Caroline’s silk shawl and she shivers, moving closer to her husband’s warm bulk. 

“You know, their boy’s a fucking ballet dancer?”

They’re alone in the car now, just the two of them--and Kendall, and the driver, but they don’t count. 

“Hmm?”

“The Reagans. Ron junior.” 

He half-smiles, a sardonic little thing.

“Well, even Ronald Reagan can’t have everything in the world, huh? I suppose I’m lucky Patricia’s dance charity bullshit didn’t rub off on Connor. I’d die of embarrassment, if I didn’t kill him first. God, can you imagine? I mean, it might not hurt his chances with the Russians, they go in for that sort of thing.” 

Logan cuts off his rambling abruptly, staring out the car window at the empty streets.

“You looked nice tonight. People liked you, and Kendall.”

“Thank you.”

He leans in to kiss her. She lets him. 

“We should have another one.”

“What, a baby?”

“Yeah. He’s a good kid, you know. Good genes. We’re a winning combination.” 

It's a far cry from romantic, but there are more important things. 

“I suppose we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted in part by me trying to figure out how on earth Logan and Caroline managed to a) get married and b) stay married long enough to have three kids. Also, I love writing my faves as babies. Logan and Caroline are both incredibly awful and therefore quite fun to write. It's hard when your most sympathetic character is only semi-verbal.


End file.
